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The Greatest Place to Live; The Greatest Time to Live HereTue, 20 Mar 2018 00:37:50 +0000en-UShourly1http://wordpress.org/?v=4.3.15http://nationalroadmagazine.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/cropped-New-Clean-Icon-Logo-B.svg_-32x32.pngNational Road Magazinehttp://nationalroadmagazine.com
3232Daytrip: Point Pleasant, West Virginiahttp://nationalroadmagazine.com/2018/03/19/daytrip-point-pleasant-west-virginia/
http://nationalroadmagazine.com/2018/03/19/daytrip-point-pleasant-west-virginia/#commentsMon, 19 Mar 2018 22:00:27 +0000http://nationalroadmagazine.com/?p=16675Around 10:30 in the morning, Point Pleasant was still dormant when our group of four parked our car next to the post office. Few people walked the streets. Even fewer cars passed down the main strip. Some small businesses were closed permanently, others still waiting to open for the day. It wasn’t until our group ...

]]>Around 10:30 in the morning, Point Pleasant was still dormant when our group of four parked our car next to the post office. Few people walked the streets. Even fewer cars passed down the main strip. Some small businesses were closed permanently, others still waiting to open for the day. It wasn’t until our group paced down a concrete walk parallel to the Ohio River that we realized the town was awake; very much alive in its own quiet sort of way.

The reason for our trip was fairly simple. We wanted to get our picture with the Mothman, an ominous creature of West Virginia folklore, whose winged legend is forever preserved by a 12-foot tall statue that we drove four hours to stand next to. His presence is everywhere, from advertisements for an art gallery, to paintings on the side of polished rocks inside an antique store. There’s even a museum dedicated to the creature just a few yards away from the statue. Yet, Point Pleasant turned out to be so much more than just the site of a mid 1960’s haunting.

On December 15th, 1967, the Silver Bridge, which connected Point Pleasant to Kanauga, Ohio, collapsed, dropping 31 vehicles into the water below. Today, a memorial stands with 46 names on 46 bricks, one for each person who died from the collapse. It’s a memorial that does more than just honor those who died, each brick is a physical reminder of the loss of life that occurred during that 1967 Christmas season.

Another memorial, a 150 foot public mural depicting the 1774 Battle of Point Pleasant, is painted directly on the town’s flood walls. The mural showcases the history of rising tensions between Point Pleasant’s Native American population and its Virginia settlers. These tensions ultimately resulted in a battle only to be resolved by a peace treaty, all represented on the mural. For our group, both memorials gave us a sense that Point Pleasant wasn’t just a town with a rich history, but also a place and people able to vividly articulate events that had occured throughout the area.

Around noon, the Mothman Museum opened up, and our group, along with a few other curious vacationers, paid the $3.00 admission to see the folklore come to life. Inside are memorabilia and replicas, all pertaining to the terror the legendary creature inflicted on the town. At one point, my brother pointed out the most jarring piece the museum had on display: a collection of newspaper clippings from the period. Like both memorials, these newspaper clippings held a certain emotional weight, grounding the history in ways a text book or documentary couldn’t.

Seeing multiple headlines of contact with UFOs, men in black, and paranormal moth creatures in the stark black and white newspaper text was a bit unsettling, to say the least. These articles weren’t from the sensational magazines you’d find at the grocery checkout line, they were taken from local West Virginia and Ohio newspapers. Perhaps these clippings had indeed profited from exploiting the wonder all of us have for superstition and the unknown, but if nothing else, for a moment, the headlines and museum gave our group a fleeting sense of wonder absent since our childhood.

Mothman Statue — Photo by Brandon Pershing

The Mothman’s supposed haunting grounds, “the TNT area,” were referenced throughout the museum almost as much as the creature himself. The area is described as a spot deep in the woods where the government had stored ammunition and explosives to be used during World War II. The area was later revealed to be deeply contaminated as a result of storing these items, and was ultimately turned into a wildlife management area. We asked the museum guide if it was possible to still see the site, and to our surprise, he gave us a map.

The woods that lead outside Point Pleasant towards the TNT area are almost as strange as the town’s folklore. Going deep into forested area while still being able to see smoke stacks from a nearby power plant is like watching a visual confrontation between nature and industry. The accessible part of the TNT area, which sits inside the McClintic Wildlife Management Area, is an experience with a strong emphasis on personal leadership. There weren’t any posted rules we could see, or any visible parking spots, only a phone number for the main office. We called the number and were told to park along one of the gravel roads and venture into the woods to find the remnants of the bunkers where the explosives were held. Using the map provided to us and locating the closest opening in the woods that resembled a trail, we set off to find the bunkers.

Like a scene out of Tolkien novel, the bunkers were shaped like igloos covered with overgrown foliage. Only metal doors were left visible from nature’s reclamation of the area. Most of the doors remained sealed, however, our group was able to find one bunker that was still accessible. Left empty despite some graffiti, the inside of the bunker had a dreamlike echo that my wife used as an opportunity to ricochet her voice off the concrete, singing simple melodies and Queen songs with a choir made up of her voice alone.

McClintic Wildlife Management Area — Photo by Brandon Pershing

The bunkers offered a surreal conclusion to our day trip.We hiked back through stagnant water and thorn bushes to our car, soon leaving McClintic behind us. We stopped for a late lunch at a nearby Wendy’s and ate our food mostly in silence. Traversing the TNT area had an obvious impact on our group. Our hike was an event like none we’d ever experienced.

We came to Point Pleasant in search of a photo opportunity with the Mothman statue, and left with our own collection of memories and an appreciation for a place with so much heart and soul. Point Pleasant, like Greencastle, is a small town off the beaten path who’s rich history and unique folklore showcase the powerful whisper of small town America.

Outside Bunker — Photo by Brandon Pershing

Point Pleasant Main Strip– Photo by Brandon Pershing

Riverside– Photo by Brandon Pershing

About Brandon Pershing

A Greencastle native, Brandon Pershing is completing his journalism degree at IUPUI. An avid film buff, Pershing is also a comic book enthusiast. He and his wife, Lindsey, live in Greencastle.

]]>http://nationalroadmagazine.com/2018/03/19/daytrip-point-pleasant-west-virginia/feed/0Johnnie Dead and the Dead Deadshttp://nationalroadmagazine.com/2018/03/18/johnnie-dead-and-the-dead-deads/
http://nationalroadmagazine.com/2018/03/18/johnnie-dead-and-the-dead-deads/#commentsSun, 18 Mar 2018 17:26:33 +0000http://nationalroadmagazine.com/?p=16654Friday Photo Blog–Sunday Edition by Tim McLaughlin Tim McLaughlin profiles The Dead Deads’ February stop in Indianapolis as part of their recent nationwide tour. First off I’m going to come clean about this review being incredibly biased. There, I said it. I first saw Tosha (aka Johnnie Dead) Jones when she played a show at ...

So, in late November 2016 I get a message: “Hey this is Tosha.” She was in town for Christmas and asked if we could do that photoshoot. Oh, it was on. I contacted the amazing owners of Grove Haus (Mark and Carrie) and they were incredibly accommodating allowing us to use their venue for a couple of hours. It was great fun. I got to meet her family and talk all things music. Shooting stills, video, and some family shots, this was the night I closed out 2016.

“When you make it big, don’t forget the little people.”

Often times, photo shoots are done as a comp, so I said (as I have a hundred times), “When you make it big, don’t forget the little people.” Fast forward to February 2018, and what do I see, The Dead Deads (Nashville, TN) are part of the lineup at the Egyptian Room at the Old National Centre along with Red Sun Rising and the headliner, Stone Sour. A few days later, I see a text pop up on my phone saying, “Hey, this is Tosha.”

What do you know, she didn’t forget. She said she’d look into getting me a photo pass, and she’d let me know by the day before the show. To her word she secured the pass. This was really cool, and I really appreciated her doing this.

It’s show time.

The Dead Deads are…. well let’s just pull the “ABOUT” from their Facebook Page, as it seems to condense them well.

“We’re a band. Hard-rock quartet from Nashville, TN. Riffs, gang vocals and drum rippage abound. For fans of bands. We live for the #deadcorps.” I’m pretty sure that “rippage” isn’t a work, but if you were to describe the passion and intensity Jones displays at the drums… I’ll roll with it.

Jones joined this quartet in January, 2017 and the band has been a touring juggernaut, crisscrossing the United States and Canada with Stone Sour and Red Sun Rising as well as with bands such as Halestorm, Seether, and Skid Row.

It was pretty wild to walk into the venue and see so many folks with signature #deadcorps “X” over each eye, but it shows that they are more than a “we should buy a t-shirt” kind of fans. When The Dead Deads came out, unlike a lot of bands who may do this before they go on stage, they meet over the drums, say what I can only imagine is “Let’s kick ass,” do a “go team” and then…

Meta Dead (with her gold sparkle Fender Pawn Shop Super-Sonic) and with Jones (joining in with her crashing Zildjian Cymbals) opens a great set of music with “Ghosts.” The dual guitars and vocals of Meta Dead, and the Fender Telecaster-slinger Dolly Dead, provide a complementary and contrasting playing styles. Not to be forgotten, as too often is the case, is Daisy Dead on the bass, an extraordinary bass player who is tasked with keeping the other three on track. If I counted correctly the set was made of the nine songs in total and rocked from start to finish.

Since Jones (Johnnie Dead) is an Indiana native, the band made sure to mention this several times throughout the set. The crowd was incredibly attentive, and I feel by the end of their set had converted some fans of Red Sun Rising and Stone Sour into new members of the #deadcorps.

Thanks to the Dead Deads for bringing along those accompanying bands as their sets built an ever louder, brighter set, concluding a night of music Indianapolis needs to see more of.

About Tim McLaughlin

Zionsville resident Tim McLaughin considers himself a documentarian behind the shutter. The owner of Hapless Guitar Photography, he enjoys shooting music and sports related photos, and as he likes to say, “almost anything.”

]]>http://nationalroadmagazine.com/2018/03/18/johnnie-dead-and-the-dead-deads/feed/0Rick Michael’s Tunes Around Townhttp://nationalroadmagazine.com/2018/03/18/tunes-around-town-rick-michael/
http://nationalroadmagazine.com/2018/03/18/tunes-around-town-rick-michael/#commentsSun, 18 Mar 2018 11:00:40 +0000http://nationalroadmagazine.com/?p=16120Rick Michael’s Tunes Around Town returns. Due to next week’s spring break, the schedule lightens up this week. But there are still tunes to be heard: March 19-24, 2018 March 19, 2018 Acoustic Open Mic with Jack Gibson / Swizzle Stick 7:00 to 9:00 March 20, 2018 Open Stage hosted by Jacqueline Kay / The ...

Fret Set Open Practice Session / The Inn at DePauw7:00 to 8:30

Jazz at the Duck / The Inn at DePauw
8:30 to 10:30

]]>http://nationalroadmagazine.com/2018/03/18/tunes-around-town-rick-michael/feed/0Soundbites: My Phone’s Loose Butt-holehttp://nationalroadmagazine.com/2018/03/17/soundbites-my-phones-loose-butthole/
http://nationalroadmagazine.com/2018/03/17/soundbites-my-phones-loose-butthole/#commentsSat, 17 Mar 2018 15:38:12 +0000http://nationalroadmagazine.com/?p=16641Soundbites: Observations about the world in roughly 300 words. It happens all the time. My iPhone has a loose butt-hole. The lightning pin, plug-in—hands down the worst innovation in the history of Apple Computer—never stays in the hole in the bottom of the phone. When I hang my gadget from the dash of my car ...

]]>Soundbites: Observations about the world in roughly 300 words.It happens all the time. My iPhone has a loose butt-hole. The lightning pin, plug-in—hands down the worst innovation in the history of Apple Computer—never stays in the hole in the bottom of the phone. When I hang my gadget from the dash of my car and roll over a manhole cover sitting 1/8 of an inch above the pavement’s surface, the iPhone cord drops out of its butt-hole in the middle of Bob Schneider’s “Party at the Neighbors.” When I charge my phone overnight a soft breeze created by the whispers of tiny cobbler elves brushes across the cord’s base, and I wake up the next morning to a phone holding a 15% charge. Sometimes, when I hermetically seal my phone in a Chicago bank vault and surround it with a complex array of laser sensors, my phone will charge. But as far as day-to-day living goes…? Forget it.

I’m currently one of those hold-outs, somehow getting through life with a measly i6. Given that the new models now use the “loose butt-hole” to connect the headphones, upgrading is a move I dread. One iPhone model ago, when I’d had all I could muster with my i5’s equally weakened sphincter, I was determined to switch to Android. I caved of course. My music catalogue, my interface with my iPad, the convenience of familiarity, the stories of people going through a long learning curve from Apple to Android…? I didn’t want to hassle with any of that.

So I got another iPhone, and I’m fighting another wobbly butt-hole. I was a high school freshman when Apple introduced its Macintosh computer using that epic Big Brother, Super Bowl ad. Who knew that once Apple walked the length of its digital red carpet and seated itself upon the Great Silicone Throne, it would wield its power with the same engineering indifference as its predecessor? From a performance perspective, Apple’s “upgrades” may not be as aggravating as Microsoft’s famous “improvement” from Windows 95 to 98, but if we can’t even keep our phones powered up, what difference does performance make?

About Donovan Wheeler

Wheeler proudly teaches AP Language to some bright and lovably obnoxious kids in a small college town. He also contributes to the craft beer website Indiana on Tap and writes for ISU’s STATE Magazine. He started learning to play guitar last fall, but he remains terrible at it.

]]>http://nationalroadmagazine.com/2018/03/17/soundbites-my-phones-loose-butthole/feed/0Winter House: Chapter 5http://nationalroadmagazine.com/2018/03/17/winter-house-chapter-5/
http://nationalroadmagazine.com/2018/03/17/winter-house-chapter-5/#commentsSat, 17 Mar 2018 10:00:53 +0000http://nationalroadmagazine.com/?p=16634Winter House Home Page Fiction by Christian Shuck Chapter Five April 8, 1910 The spring sunlight was warm in the April morning. The smell of blooming flora travelled on the evaporating dew. The air of the season to come was intoxicating. Remnants of tiny water droplets sparkled on the tall grass. Otto lifted his hat ...

Chapter Five

April 8, 1910

The spring sunlight was warm in the April morning. The smell of blooming flora travelled on the evaporating dew. The air of the season to come was intoxicating. Remnants of tiny water droplets sparkled on the tall grass. Otto lifted his hat to look over the field in front of him. It was a natural clearing in the middle of ten acres just southeast of the Basevale city limits. After years of work to build his business, he was finally ready to build his home.

A tree line made of sycamore, maple and oak trees marked the edge of the knoll. White and purple clover littered the gaps in the weeds. It was open, free and most importantly, his. He let his left hand fall to brush the tassels as he stepped forward. Though he had seen the outline of the plot many times on the county surveyor’s map, this was his first step onto the land. Because he worked so often with other tradesmen in carpentry, he’d heard stories of the river flooding. This plot was just high enough, and just far enough away from the river, his family’s new home would be safe from any possible rising water. Combined with the knowledge the county was getting ready to add a road right past the property made the timing of the purchase more beneficial.

“This where the new road will be going, Pa?” Arthur, Otto’s thirteen year old son, asked.

Otto looked up in the sky to note the position of the sun, then down, to the south. He raised his right hand, still holding his hat.

“In zat direction, just zare.” The thickness of his German accent contrasted against his son’s American English. Otto did not mind Arthur’s dialect, he would need it to make a living in their new homeland. Otto’s wife, on the other hand, felt as if their children were losing their German heritage in the American plains. She insisted on speaking their native tongue at home. Otto understood the importance of being familiar with the words of their adopted homeland, and so made effort to speak English with his children whenever possible.

“Zee road fil go zare,” Otto pointed, “und vee vil build our home zare.” He directed his hat a little further north to indicate the space to Arthur.

The boy moved toward the place Otto was pointing. The haus would be built on the highest part of the property.

“Vee vill build zee house wiz sree levels,” he continued. He watched as his son looked up, picturing the high walls of the structure, all the way to the roof. Otto smiled. He and Gabriele had always dreamed of this day. Resting his hat back on his head, he turned to observe the lot. Measurements on a map were one thing, seeing the size of the land in person made him feel accomplished. It was the vision he had in his mind since they first stepped onto the docks in a New Jersey harbor thirteen years before.

In his excitement, Otto called for Arthur to come and take part in the moment. When no response came, he turned to look for his son.

“Arthur?” he called again. Believing the boy might have kept wandering off into the tree line, Otto walked to the place he had shown his son they would build their zuhause.

After only a few steps, Otto realized Arthur had not wandered off at all. Though the incline rose only a few feet, it was enough to hide a rocky edge in the ground. Beyond it, an opening. As he moved up the small hill, the opening became a large crevice and once at the ledge, he could see Arthur lying at the bottom.

“Arthur!” His voice carried loudly against the rock walls. The boy was at least three meters from the ground level.

“I think I’m okay, pa.” The boy coughed as he tried to catch his breath. Slowly he began to sit up.

A sigh of relief escaped Otto when he heard his son’s voice. “You are not hurt?”

“I don’t think anything is broken.”

Understanding there was not any immediate danger, Otto began examining the sides of the crevice to look for a way to climb down.

“Father?” Arthur called up.

“Yes? Can you climb?”

“I think so, but,” he pointed toward the east wall of the crevice, “there is a hole here.”

“Zat does not matter now. I vill get a rope from ze vagon. Stay still, Arthur.”

“Should I look?” Arthur asked permission.

“I sink not, you should climb out.”

Arthur nodded to his father, then looked back at the hole.

“Arthur,” Otto said, frustrated. “Stay still, I vill be right back.”

Otto scrambled up and rushed over to their wagon. Placing a hand on the reigns around their horse’s mouth, he led it and the wagon closer to the giant hole in the ground. He secured the brake on the wagon, so the horse did not wander away. Then he took out a rope and tied it to the back end of the wagon. He walked to the edge to toss the loose end of the rope down to Arthur, only to find that his son had disappeared again.

“Arthur!”

After a moment, his son emerged from the hole in the side of the rock wall.

“Father!”

“Arthur, I told you to stay still. I’m going to zrow tis rope to you and pull you up wis ze vagon.”

“But Pa,” Arthur began, “there is something here you should see.”

“Vat is it?” Otto felt his voice become agitated. In the panic to get his son out of the hole safely, the whimsical ideal of their future home had been replaced with confusion. He knew nothing of the strange opening where his son now stood. It was never marked on any of the surveyor’s maps.

“It looks like an old Indian cave. There are markings in it.”

“Arthur,” Otto said, now pleading. “We do not know vhat zis is. If it is an old mine, it may collapse. You need to get out of zer. Look, see, your arm is bleeding.” He pointed at Arthur’s left side, which had bright red seeping through his cotton shirt.

Arthur looked down at his arm. A small tear in the cloth revealed a scrape on his elbow. He rubbed the back of his head.

“Oh, I feel alright.”

“I vill srow zis to you and you vill tie it around your vaist,” Otto told him. “Zen I vill pull you up.”

The boy turned around to look at the hole.

“Arthur!” Otto shouted. “Tu was ich sage!”

Without turning around Arthur called back, “You should see this, Father.”

Then he walked back over to the hole and disappeared. Unsure what to do next, and irritated his son would not mind him, Otto returned to the wagon. He took a lantern from the cart, checked to make sure the brake was still on, and began to tie the rope around his own waist. His brief moment celebrating his own American dream now muddled in frustration.

Securing the lantern to the back of his belt, Otto slowly descended the side of the pit. There was not much to grab on to, and his foot slipped a few times. The side of the pit looked as if it had been cut on purpose. The rock walls were all but smooth, almost polished.

Finally at the bottom, he untied the rope and looked up, hoping the horse would not be able to move the cart away. Though it had not looked more than three meters down, staring up at the sky made the pit seem as if it were twice as deep.

Otto turned to the hole in the wall. “Arthur?”

“In here,” came a call back.

Otto bent to light the lantern and moved toward the opening.

Once inside he held the light up to see Arthur gazing at a wall with crude markings. All of them, just shapes and lines. There were no images of people or animals. Moisture clung to the to the stone so it reflected in the flickering light. The walls were smooth, like outside.

“Oh mein Gott,” Otto muttered.

“What do you think this is?” Arthur asked.

“I do not know zat.”

“Do you think it was Indians?”

“I don’t know, son.” He moved the light around the rest of the cavern to see it was quite large. “Zis could be an old mine, as I said. We should not be here, there could be gas, or it could collapse.”

Arthur turned to look deeper into the cavern. Then, to Otto’s dread, started to walk into the darkness.

“No, Arthur. We cannot go down zer.”

“Awe, please, Pa?”

A cold breeze whispered up from the dark. The smell that followed was sulfuric.

“No,” Otto told Arthur again. “Smell zat? Gas. We cannot risk it.”

“But -”

“I need to check wis ze zurveyor to make sure this was not a mistake.” He reached for Arthur’s arm and pulled him toward the opening of the cavern. “Come, we need to go.”

Nearly dragging Arthur away from the cavern, Otto marched away defiantly. He could not decide what to be more irritated with: his son’s unwillingess to listen, or the possibility that the land he had purchased was going to turn out worthless.

Otto left the wagon with Arthur to look after it. He tried to control his pace, but the adrenaline in his body was overwhelming. He made his best effort to prevent himself from a complete panic.

Through the oak doors at the front of the courthouse, he turned and half ran up the marble steps to the second floor and down the hall to the county surveyor’s office. He burst through the door, startling the secretary at her desk.

Before the secretary could call for him, Thomas appeared in the door to his office.

“Mr. Zimmerman, please have a seat.” He motioned for Otto to come in. “Bess, could you please get Mr. Zimmerman some water.” The secretary got up and trotted out into the hallway.

Otto sat down in a chair near Mr. Thomas’s desk. After Mr. Thomas was seated, Otto blurted, “I need to know about my property.”

“Certainly, sir, what is the issue? I thought you were quite satisfied with your choice.”

“Zer is a large cavern in ze middle of ze field. My son fell in it.”

Thomas leaned back in surprise.

“A cavern? But, that’s not possible. Is your son alright? Perhaps he is playing a prank.”

Otto had to think of the meaning of the word before responding. “Zis is no prank, I saw it myself. And yes, Arthur is well, thank you. Mr. Thomas, zer must be some miztake. Ze plot of land I purchased did not have an old mine located on it.”

“No, you’re certainly right there,” Thomas said, reaching for a book. He opened it’s long form pages and thumbed through them until he reached the one he was looking for. He poked his finger at a line.

“Right here, Harrison Township, Mr. Otto Zimmerman, plot 2334, just north of Brown Hill township. I believe that’s right along the path of the new county road, if my memory serves me. That’s why you chose it.”

Otto leaned forward onto the desk. “Yes, zat is correct.”

“There’s no mine marked here, Mr. Zimmerman. Closest mine to your property is over thirty miles away. You sure you know what you saw?”

Otto huffed at the suggestion he was lying.

“Yes, Mr. Thomas, I am quite zertain zat I know vat I saw.”

Thomas leaned back in his chair and stroked his grey beard.

“I can’t say for sure, the last full survey was three years ago, but -” Thomas trailed off in thought.

She turned and walked out to her desk, closing Mr. Thomas’s door behind her.

Otto drank the whole cup in one gulp, then looked back to Thomas. “You ver zaying?”

Thomas leaned back in his chair again. “Yes, yes. The survey maps are three years old, but I can’t imagine anything has changed. It’s possible, I suppose, there was an earth shake and a sinkhole formed.”

“Zis was not a zinkhole,” Otto grumbled. “My son fell in it, I climbed down to help him, there was a cavern with markings and a bad gas smell.”

Mr. Thomas’s eyebrows went up. “Markings, you say?”

“Ja,” Otto began. He took a pencil off the desk and searched for a piece of paper.

“Here, you can use this,” said Thomas, handing him a blank page.

Otto sketched out the lines he and Arthur had seen on the wall. Criss-crosses, circles and dashes.

Thomas leaned over the page, his glasses sliding down his nose.

After a few moments he sat back again. “Never seen anything like that before. Don’t even look like Indian markings.”

“Zen vat are zey?”

“Can’t say for sure, Mr. Zimmerman. This isn’t my area of expertise. What I can tell you is that our most recent survey for that property is three years old. We are supposed to be building a new road through that area, precisely because there are no oddities in the landscape. Perhaps we should consult the County Commissioners and see if there is any information they have.”

Otto’s shoulders sagged as he considered telling his wife and children their dream home would have to wait. There was no way to know how long the process would take to re-survey the land. With the prospect of the road, it was likely it could be expedited, but that construction was not to begin until the following year. Otto had hoped to complete the house over the summer and in fact had rejected contracting offers to pursue his own building.

“Mr. Zimmerman?” Mr. Thomas asked. “Would you like me to contact the County Commissioners?”

“No, sank you,” Otto replied. “Zat vill not be necessary.”

“But, you are obviously concerned, and frankly, the county should be as well if we’re to build the road.”

Otto shook his head. “It has been an unusually hot day. Perhaps I stumbled onto the wrong property.”

“Mr. Zimmerman -”

“It is quite alright, Mr. Thomas.” He stood and placed the cup Bess had brought him on the desk. “I am so sorry to have interrupted your day. I am quite tired and my son is waiting outside.”

Mr. Thomas stood to shake Otto’s hand. “Well, if you say so. I do hope you get some rest, sir.”

“Sank you,” Otto said. He walked out of the office and thanked Bess for the water on his way to the hallway.

The next morning, Otto stood over the cavern in the middle of his new property. Franklin James, the foreman for Otto’s construction team stood next to him.

“Not sure what to make of this, Mr. Zimmerman,” said Frank.

“Zat would make ze two of us.”

“I suppose, we could save some time and just use this as your cellar.”

Otto turned to Frank, “Vat do you mean?”

“Well,” Frank put his hands out in front of him, “we could brick over that hole, seal it up real good. The walls look sound, so we might be able to put the walls to the cellar just on the inside of the rock. We’d have to make sure it drained well, but there’s no problem there since we can funnel the water into that hole.”

Otto stared at the rock walls, contemplating Frank’s idea. He twisted the end of his mustache as he considered the plan.

“You could be zertain the vater vould drain properly?”

Frank scratched his chin. “Yes, Mr. Zimmerman, I believe we can make it work. It’ll save you the cost to dig a cellar, it’ll close off that cavern, and you get to keep your property.”

A smirk formed on Otto’s face. It seemed he had developed some American stubbornness. “Alright zen, let us get to vork.”

]]>http://nationalroadmagazine.com/2018/03/17/winter-house-chapter-5/feed/0Vincent Aguirre: A Life for Himselfhttp://nationalroadmagazine.com/2018/03/11/vincent-aguirre-a-life-for-himself/
http://nationalroadmagazine.com/2018/03/11/vincent-aguirre-a-life-for-himself/#commentsMon, 12 Mar 2018 00:25:28 +0000http://nationalroadmagazine.com/?p=16620by Donovan Wheeler photos by Piper Voss Vincent Aguirre’s story begins at the end. Pick any end you want: his graduation from DePauw University; his decision to leave his stable Chicago job and come back to Greencastle; his business breakup with college friend and WynWay partner, George Velazquez; his decision to rebrand his consulting firm ...

]]>by Donovan Wheelerphotos by Piper VossVincent Aguirre’s story begins at the end. Pick any end you want: his graduation from DePauw University; his decision to leave his stable Chicago job and come back to Greencastle; his business breakup with college friend and WynWay partner, George Velazquez; his decision to rebrand his consulting firm as Distinct Web Design. You can call each clause in that sentence-long biography a “chapter,” or you can call each one a “rung.” The semantics matter less than the person they describe, and while each moment in Aguirre’s story has shaped and transformed the businessman and entrepreneur, none of them have changed the man himself.

Walk into Starbucks, and you’ll find Aguirre sitting over his laptop. To his left, within easy reach, his latté waits for him. To his right, within easier reach, his phone chirps and buzzes, pulling him away from his laptop screen for a minute here, ten minutes there. If he was facing a deadline, you wouldn’t know. If he had just lost a big account, you wouldn’t know that, either. And if he’d landed the biggest sale of the year, you might know, but you’d have to ask him point-blank to confirm your hunch. Be it a glance cast toward him from the serving line or a lengthy conversation sitting beside him, Aguirre’s more than adept at putting up the same front.

It’s an affable front. Youthful and brimming with a kind of optimism that can be contagious on most occasions, and maybe irritating when you’re inner Sigma-male is needled-out at “full cynicism.” Not that it matters to him. If you want to embrace his demeanor, and make it part of your day…good for you. Vince is happy to oblige. If you’re determined to grouse your way through every hour of daylight, that’s fine as well, but don’t expect Aguirre to commiserate. He is, in fact, so disarming that, if you didn’t know he was an entrepreneur, you would think you were in the presence of a pastor—a man who had devoted his life to providing inner peace for those who stood around him. Aguirre’s reassurance, is of a more potent form than a mere man of God. Aguirre is a man of opportunity, and nothing—nothing throws shade on opportunity. Should you be standing beside him when the North Korean missiles soar over your head, he’ll tell you that the trajectories are all wrong and that everything will probably work out…and you’ll believe him.

He arrived in Greencastle the way many people do: as a college student. He liked it here. In his mind the town had a good deal of promise and loads of appeal. But like most DePauw grads, when he clasped his degree, unzipped his gown, and tossed aside his mortarboard…he headed home—in his case back to his Chicago roots.

“For over a year I avoided alcohol. Not because I had a problem but because I recognized that my livelihood would be based on my productivity and that one day of being hung over would cost me a day of work which could cost me maybe my rent for that month. I was probably overly aggressive in my planning. I would wake up early every day go downstairs start working just trying to find ways to find more clients to make more money.”Photo by Piper Voss

Please consider supporting the Greencastle Arts Council by becoming a member. See the Greencastle Arts Council’s web page for details.

“I was working in consulting,” Aguirre says explaining why he came back to Greencastle. “At some point while I was working there it just hit me that I wasn’t happy even though I was making more money than anyone in my family. That was because I started to realize that the lifestyle in Chicago just wasn’t for me anymore. Waking up to catch a train, [fighting] weather that is either too hot or too cold, sitting in front of this desk for seven hours a day… The job is great: we had foosball, we had beer and ping-pong, we could get up and take breaks whenever. But just being in front of a desk not talking all day was killing me.”

“Eventually I pinpointed that I just didn’t like being there,” he explains. “I didn’t like the traffic, I didn’t like the taxes. And in learning more about the history of Chicago [in particular] the history of its segregation… [I was] living in an area that I never imagined living in, but I hated it because I knew that it was segregated a hundred years ago.”

Happening upon his old fraternity advisor, Steve Jones, during a visit to his alma mater, Aguirre made it clear that, if Jones could score him a campus job, he would consider coming back to Greencastle. But he wasn’t on the DPU clock for very long before the same sense of office confinement squeezed him in from every side.

“Gradually I got tired of the bureaucracy,” Aguirre says. “I like to think I’m a risk taker, and I really couldn’t do that at DePauw. So I slowly considered leaving and jumping into the business.”

The business he refers to was the all-things computer emporium that was WynWay. It unfolded first among friends in campus housing, but eventually moved to an old Victorian three-story sitting along Greencastle’s Washington Street. With Velazquez and other mutual acquaintances Aguirre and partners developed an operation which offered everything from cell phone and PC repairs to full webpage design.

I don’t know how far along the pair were when I met them in early 2015, but I remember the chemistry. Sitting around the conference table in the upstairs meeting room above the coffee shop, they laid out WynWay’s mission and told us their story. They parried our questions as a team, deft exchanges of eye contact signaling who needed to serve up the answers, which were just as adeptly cemented with follow-up comments adding context and clarity.

After the meeting I joined them for a tour of their new digs. That Victorian edifice—once the offices of a long-standing group of accountants—echoed as I walked through it. The folding chairs, and collapsible long tables spoke of youth and transition, but they offered the promise of the mahogany desks and leather rockers which would surely follow. One wall, every inch of it converted into a whiteboard, displayed the energetic spontaneity of brain-storming wunderkinds. And tucked into a small cavity no bigger than a closet, an upright arcade style video game (they hadn’t got it working at the time, but they were close) reminded me that in many ways a pair of boys still hunkered in the cerebral cortexes of these two young men.

Much has changed in the three years which have followed. WynWay is gone, the building now empty. More importantly, Aguirre himself walks the streets of Greencastle a man seasoned by his ventures. He could have opted for the safe route—after all, he sat on two safe gigs since finishing college. Instead he opted for risk and has both won and lost along the way. Such is the life of the noble entrepreneur: wizened by his failures, buoyed by his successes, always learning from each experience.

We are proud to work with Vince Aguirre and Distinct Web Design.

Photo by Piper Voss.

Donovan Wheeler: Given what happened with WynWay and your friendship with your then partner, what advice would you give to a pair of good friends who were thinking of going into business together?

Vincent Aguirre: “I would encourage them to think really hard about it. From the point where I moved back to Greencastle, we had six people involved with WynWay. Quickly, we removed two of them which caused some hardship, but it was a matter of their skill sets not being needed.. Of the remaining four, one partner just wasn’t doing the work, so we bought him out. Five months later we decided to split the company. I felt that my full-time employment was hanging on this, so I had to do was right for me. It caused heartache. We initially talked after that, but it degraded over time. Now we don’t talk at all.”

Wheeler: So now you’re untethered. You reorganize—and rebrand—yourself. Under your new moniker, 25/7 Consulting, you experience a handful of successes, but more frequently than not you find yourself chasing leads which fizzle. Why do you think that phase of your entrepreneurship never quite got its legs under it?

Aguirre: “The thought at the time was that the company would be something more than just web design. The goal was to try to focus on getting people more time in the day…finding ways to automate and help them improve. Part of the problem is that the concept was so vague that it probably hurt me in terms of selling websites and online marketing. I think I was just being really ambitious. I would look at myself and I thought at the time that my strengths were finding ways to make things easier or faster. But conveying that idea was just too hard with no niche. I had no specific services which I tried to provide. It was just, ‘Come work with me! I’ll help you be better and faster!’”

Wheeler: In what ways did the 25/7 experience produce results?

Aguirre: “It worked for one client. I still work with the National Center for College Costs, and I think if my company name involved web design I probably would’ve never ended up working with Dave Murray. But that’s the only real success because of that name. I was really opposed to the idea of targeting a niche for quite a while. When I would meet with Ken Eitel he would always push it on me, and I would push back. To me finding a niche meant I was limiting myself. What I didn’t understand at the time was that you can still take on other niches if your marketing is focused on something specific. I didn’t realize that if you’re doing good work for one niche, then word will spread, and then you can take on work for other people. So now, with Distinct Web Design, I’m trying to focus just on web design and marketing. I’m not trying to be everything for everybody.”

“For me I think I’m uniquely fit to live in a small rural town, especially one like Greencastle. It has enough of an urban feel for me, especially now with the different restaurants, bars, and shops. But it still has that community feel.”

Wheeler: What would you say to someone who went through a similar “branding” experience such as yours? Were you worried that it would affect the way that prospective clients would view you in terms of stability?

Aguirre: “The re-branding was a factor but it can be overcome. I definitely regret it. I would not sit here and say that I’m happy it’s happened. But I think the positive flip on it is that it’s built up my brand as a person. Where everything else has kind of come and gone, people refer to me as me now. So when people ask, ‘Who works on your website?’ Their answer is, ‘Vince.’ So I think locally, in the long run, it’s OK because I’m building my personal brand. And outside of the community it doesn’t even matter.”

Wheeler: As you are in the year-and-a-half long process of evolving from 25/7 to DWD, you took a couple of risks…one of them a big one. Explain the snags which forced you shelve your co-workspace, Launch Putnam County.

Aguirre: “Launch was kind of riding on the excitement of co-workspaces in Indiana. In talking with business and community leaders I really felt like there was a huge need for a shared working space in town. We decided to take it on because we (Aguirre and then business partners Andrew Smith and Michael Woodsmall) thought, at worst, we would end up with an office. If no one ever joins we at least have an office. But at best we have the space that the community can use. We also believed we could use its network to help engage and educate people, but really it would’ve been a community space.”

Wheeler: So what happened?

Aguirre: “When we opened it, we thought we had more time to run it, but things started changing. Finances were going to get tight. Personal finances were going to tighten up. My rent was going to drastically increase in the coming year. We probably cut it off a little prematurely. I think we had a shot at getting the membership we needed to sustain it, but at that moment when circumstances changed, we looked at the numbers, and it was too big of a risk. It would’ve blown everything up, and I would not be here… Could not be here. Looking back, I’m glad we [closed], because sales at that time went down dramatically. With all the added expenses it would’ve needed, that would’ve been horrible, horrible year.”

Wheeler: Why do you think it struggled to catch on in Greencastle?

Aguirre: “I knew we would need at least a year for it to reach where it would need to be. We didn’t give it a year. We gave it four good months of marketing and six months being open. Other communities also run theirs as 501 C3‘s and heavily finance them through corporate donations. We had some of that: Comcast and the city had given money, but we opened ours as an LLC for the sake of simplicity…and to test the theory [of whether it could work as a business]. We anticipated spending the money, but we didn’t anticipate the cash flow issues which cropped up on us.”

“Some people probably look at my early business ventures and maybe question me. Question what I’m capable of. But I think if I go on for the next 10 years making killer websites and selling multiple houses, people will look at me as successful at different things. “Photo by Piper Voss

Wheeler: So timing was a factor?

Aguirre: “Yes. After we decided to close down, about six people called and asked to sign up. If that would’ve happened [a few months earlier] then things would have been different. We just ran out of time. I still think that, for those members who signed on, it would’ve been a useful experience. We needed to get that critical mass of people who would use the space and be excited about using the space… We just didn’t have time to get there.”

Wheeler: Were there any other factors which hampered its development?

Aguirre: “Co-workspaces that succeed have a ton of programming involved to showcase the benefits of the space. Launch Fishers—which is the state benchmark for this thing—runs all kinds of programming. For example, here in town the Public Library hosts coding workshops. This is something a workspace would typically take on, but we didn’t because we didn’t want to step on their toes.”

Wheeler: Your other big venture—happening at about the same time as the co-workspace—was your rollout of GoPutCo, what was the concept you had in mind?

Aguirre: “We thought of GoPutCo when we first started working with the Chamber of Commerce, before Brian Cox started working there. And we realize that no one was the community hub for what was going on. At the time the County Visitor’s Bureau (CVB) was in turmoil, the Chamber wasn’t focusing on it, the city wasn’t focusing on it, so we thought we would take it on and try to develop this community calendar. But by the time we launched that calendar Brian Cox had been hired (and was doing great work), the CVB had been reformed, and both were working on calendars of their own.”

Aguirre: “So, by the time we launched, there were a lot of people pursuing the same objective. It definitely hurt our value proposition. The goal was to be THE place to go for events and find out what was going on, and then we would find ways to monetize that. By the time we were ready to launch it, there were already talks from all these other sources who are planning to do the same thing. Given that both organizations held more official statuses within the community, it was hard to establish GoPutCo as THE place.”

Wheeler: Of all the places you could have gone, especially given that you grew up in Chicago, you came to Greencastle. Why?

Aguirre: “For me I think I’m uniquely fit to live in a small rural town, especially one like Greencastle. It has enough of an urban feel for me, especially now with the different restaurants, bars, and shops. But it still has that community feel. There’s enough to do here for my day-to-day life, and everything else that I need can be supplemented by a short drive. People always questioned me: ‘How long are you going to be here? How long are you going to be here?’ And my answer is that I want to live here forever. I can see myself doing that because, if I want to go to Chicago that could be a day trip. Indy is not far, Terre Haute is not far, St. Louis is really not that far, Cincinnati is not that far, nor are Louisville, Evansville, or Fort Wayne.”

Wheeler: That explains the geographical benefits of living here. What else draws you to this point on the map?

Aguirre: “So for me, why not live somewhere where the community is amazing? You can literally go anywhere and see somebody you know. It has a low cost of living, and you just have everything you need on a day-to-day basis. I don’t need nightclubs. I don’t need to party every night. I do like culture the arts and what not, but I don’t mind driving an hour to do that because that’s not something that I’m going to do every night.”

Wheeler: Your primary business prong is DWD’s website development and maintenance program. So tell me: what should a good website do?

Aguirre: “A good website, really depends on the business and that organization’s needs. But at its core every website should do two things: it should be a beautiful representation of the business, but it should also convert on their sales goal or their goal in general. In most cases, from the business to business perspective, that means getting new leads and convincing the person who’s looking at your website that you were the right company for their needs. So for me my website needs to convince people that I know what I’m talking about when it comes to web design and digital marketing, and I need to give them the ability to give me their contact information. If I’m not doing that I’m not making money.”

Aguirre: “Beyond that a website is really your home base for all of your marketing needs, and I think a lot of people are really missing that. If I could teach everyone one quick tip about the website, it’s that it allows you to track who has been on your website and then market to them specifically. So if you just have a Facebook page or all you have is a Wix website and trying to market that, nothing is going to come out of that specifically.”

Wheeler: What does that mean? To “market” a website?

Aguirre: “Say you’re on Amazon, and you’re looking at treadmills. For the next week-and-a-half all you’re going to see are treadmills. Everywhere you go online, there they are. Eventually you’re going say, ‘Big Brother is following me, and they always know what I’m looking for.’ That’s what you’re able to do if you have a website. If your service is ice cream, and someone looks at your website, but didn’t actually come in and buy your ice cream, they will see ads for your ice cream for the next week, prompting them to come in and buy.”

Photo by Piper Voss

Wheeler: You’ve spoken earlier about the importance of settling on a niche. Where did you end up in that process?

Aguirre: “My hyper-focus niche—which does not mean I can’t work with other businesses—is funeral home websites. Actually I attended a conference in February run by the Indiana funeral home directors association.”

Wheeler: That’s an interesting choice. Why that one?

Aguirre: “I like working with businesses that are locally owned. A lot of funeral homes aren’t, so you have to go out and find the ones that are. I like working with businesses that have been around and are established, and most funeral homes have been around for a long time. Funeral homes are high-income, meaning if they’re open they’re generating income. And funeral home operators are good at paying their bills. So I looked into what segment of local businesses fit those criteria. I also asked myself: what businesses in this segment need my service?”

Wheeler: And funeral homes….?

Aguirre: “When it comes to funerals, that family is doing this as a one-shot thing, and often—unless they already know where they are going to have their service—they need to find a place quickly. That could be word-of-mouth, but it could also be a Google search. And many of the services I provide to other business apply to this segment, too: running ads as I talked about before or optimizing your website so that it’s search-friendly and comes up near the top of a Google search.”

Wheeler: You have also diversified, if we can call it that, by working in real estate. What led you to that field?

Aguirre: “I’ve always believed in multiple sources of income, and real estate was an appealing option because it afforded me a flexible day-to-day schedule and the ability to pick and choose clients. It’s another business area where I learn and grow while giving me another source of income as well. It complements web design in many ways, and it allows me to improve my marketing skills.”

Wheeler: Tell me a little bit about the pros and cons of being your own boss.

Aguirre: “The benefits are that I have the ability to try things. If I’m going to fail, I can fail quickly. I can test a theory, see if works, and move on if it doesn’t. Whatever happens…success or failure…it happens on my own merit.”

Aguirre: “You also get to control your income in a manner of speaking. If I work twice has hard in a standard, non-commission 9-to-5 job, that extra work won’t change your income…unless you happen to catch your boss’ attention. But here…if I work twice as hard doing web design I can almost guarantee you that I’ll make twice as much money.”

Aguirre: “The other advantage is that I get to structure my day. When my cash flow had tightened up in the early phases of this, I contemplated going back to work in a 9-to-5 office setting, and the biggest factor which crushed my soul was thinking, ‘How do I balance 20 vacation days a year…if I’m lucky?’”

Wheeler: And the drawbacks…?

Aguirre: “There are many drawbacks. Accountability is one. If you have income, it becomes easy to slack off, which only hurts me in the long run whenever the income I had been riding on goes away.”

Aguirre: “Working from home can also get extremely depressing. I’ve gone three or four days without leaving my house, because I didn’t need to. Then I would realize: I have seen another person in three days. And income sources are not predictable, and that creates a lot of stress. If you hit a period of time where it seems like the end is near…? That drains you.”

For the most part, that nagging question—are you really going to stay in Greencastle?—has faded. From the development of his business ventures, his work with local charitable organizations, his roles on city and community committees, and his long-term relationship with his girlfriend, Aguirre (who still has a couple years to go before he reaches age 30) has buried his stakes about as deeply as any 21st century American can. No one doubts his success as he plods along growing his business and developing his brand. No one also doubts that the next time a risky, eyebrow-raising idea crosses his mind, we won’t hesitate to try it. Whether those side projects fail or take off, it really doesn’t matter. All that matters is that, when he tallies up his efforts, what’s on his ledger is his to own. He is an entrepreneur, after all…that’s what they do.

Cover Photo by Piper Voss

About Donovan Wheeler

Wheeler proudly teaches AP Language to some bright and lovably obnoxious kids in a small college town. He also contributes to the craft beer website Indiana on Tap and writes for ISU’s STATE Magazine. He started learning to play guitar last fall, but he remains terrible at it.

About Piper Voss

A Greencastle native, Piper Voss attended Indiana University and currently lives in Indianapolis with her husband and son.

]]>http://nationalroadmagazine.com/2018/03/11/vincent-aguirre-a-life-for-himself/feed/0Vignettes: Chad Lehrhttp://nationalroadmagazine.com/2018/03/07/vignettes-chad-lehr/
http://nationalroadmagazine.com/2018/03/07/vignettes-chad-lehr/#commentsThu, 08 Mar 2018 02:04:22 +0000http://nationalroadmagazine.com/?p=16615Chad Lehr at Wasser Brewing Company Thursday–March 8 @ 8:00 In a time when “Americana” serves as a label identifying everything from a group of millennials reinventing classic rock to precision-picking honky-tonkers who play something more like country, sometimes a performer comes along who dovetails perfectly with the genre as we first understood it. Chad ...

]]>Chad Lehr at Wasser Brewing Company Thursday–March 8 @ 8:00In a time when “Americana” serves as a label identifying everything from a group of millennials reinventing classic rock to precision-picking honky-tonkers who play something more like country, sometimes a performer comes along who dovetails perfectly with the genre as we first understood it. Chad Lehr’s sound is the brand of music that forces us to admit: “This is what we think of when we think of Americana.” Maybe Lehr has perfected the intonations and rhythms along the lines of a Ryan Adams or a Ray LaMontange (we would argue he has). Maybe he wholeheartedly embraces his current style because he’s spent a long time knocking down post-pop/post-hardcore tunes with a different band over a decade ago (we think there’s some truth it that, too). To say he’s talented is a given. Musically sound, vocally consistent and solid. But he’s also seasoned. We always respect artists who know who they are out of the gate and perfect it. But we have to give that second nod of dignified admiration to the guy who has tried a lot of everything and has settled on the sound that best defines him.

]]>http://nationalroadmagazine.com/2018/03/07/vignettes-chad-lehr/feed/0Stop Parenting Everyone Else’s Entertainmenthttp://nationalroadmagazine.com/2018/03/05/stop-parenting-everyone-elses-entertainment/
http://nationalroadmagazine.com/2018/03/05/stop-parenting-everyone-elses-entertainment/#commentsTue, 06 Mar 2018 03:07:58 +0000http://nationalroadmagazine.com/?p=16606Around Christmas of 1999, I was four years old and obsessed with Batman. I don’t remember ever living without loving superheroes. As far as I can tell there was no real defined reason, and no commercial on TV that piqued my interest. One day, I just woke up and wanted to be Batman. There was ...

]]>Around Christmas of 1999, I was four years old and obsessed with Batman. I don’t remember ever living without loving superheroes. As far as I can tell there was no real defined reason, and no commercial on TV that piqued my interest. One day, I just woke up and wanted to be Batman. There was something in Michael Keaton’s dark brooding portrayal of the character that inspired something in me, which also inspired the first disagreement between me and my mom.

Everyone has seen the film A Christmas Story. The entire movie hangs on our protagonist Ralphie and his attempts to convince his parents that he’s ready to handle the Red Ryder BB Gun. My Red Ryder was a VHS copy of Batman Returns. Every time we entered Walmart, I begged Mom to get me a copy for Christmas, and every time I asked, she reminded me I wasn’t allowed to watch it. When I would ask why, she’d always tell me the same thing, something to the extent of, “You aren’t old enough, it’s too scary, it’s too violent.”

I was allowed to watch every other Batman movie. The fact that I couldn’t watch this one pushed the film past the confines of just being another VHS on a Walmart shelf. It elevated it to be the holy grail at the heart of my own childhood. One Christmas morning, I woke up to see a world of gifts, but not a single one was Batman Returns. I wasn’t even looking for it. My mom had made it so apparent that I wouldn’t be seeing the movie that it felt more like a myth than anything tangible. There was, however, one thing in my corner that Mom hadn’t expected: Grandma.

Four hours later, to my surprise (and Mom’s), I opened up Batman Returns at my Grandma Marcia’s house during our Christmas party. The movie came with one rule, it had to stay at Grandma’s. The rest of that afternoon was spent in my uncle’s room, watching the movie that had once been so elusive to me. For the next two weeks, I had nightmares every single night.

Like many parents, my mom was very much aware that not all entertainment should be viewed by every child. She had taken the time, though, to understand the behavior and fears of each of her children. She also took the time to understand the content of our various interests. In my case, she knew my active imagination and need to replicate the actions of my favorite characters didn’t mesh well with films skewed to a slightly older audience. She didn’t let me see Batman Returns because she had seen the film upon its release in 1992 and had decided seven years later that an impressionable young Batman fan, prone to nightmares and roughhousing, wasn’t yet ready to see the film.

My mom wasn’t a one size fits all parent, however. My sister had access to more mature films much faster than my brother and I, simply because Mom knew she matured faster, and probably would fall asleep before the movie ever finished in the first place. While there were certain films none of us were ever able to watch, Mom was still fairly lenient (in moderation), and we had some freedom on what we chose to view, read and experience. She treated the content of our interests as earned privileges, and if we showed signs through our behavior that we couldn’t handle the material, the privilege was revoked, ready to be given back at a later day.

While hard R rated films and some video games weren’t accessible during our childhood, I never once remember Mom trying to push her own parenting decisions off on other parents. She never joined a parent group to oppose media she didn’t agree with, and she never wrote a letter or petition trying to get a film pulled out of a classroom or a theater. The decisions she made in her parenting were for us, and it wasn’t the business of any other person, and especially not our teachers, what we could and couldn’t watch.

Yet, by time I graduated from Greencastle High School in 2014, I had seen years of some of my peers’ parents trying to pull this stunt. Whether it was someone throwing a tantrum over what we had watched or read in class, or trying to convince my own mother about a piece of entertainment that they thought kids shouldn’t be seeing, it always felt that somewhere in the background there was someone complaining about everyone else’s entertainment.

Please consider supporting the Greencastle Arts Council by becoming a member. See the Greencastle Arts Council’s web page for details.

This wouldn’t be such an issue if there weren’t real world consequences. The New York Times published a piece in October 2017 detailing how parent complaints at a Mississippi middle school led to the dropping of To Kill a Mockingbird from the classroom reading schedule. In December, Houston Public Media reported on a Texas high school that removed a book from the school’s library following a parent complaint. The book,The Hate U Give, wasn’t even a part of a reading schedule, it was only available in the library. Relating this back to Batman, the only reason we have the two horrible Joel Schumacher Batman films of the late 1990s is because parent groups pressured Warner Brothers to drop director Tim Burton from the series.

I’m not advocating that parents let their children see every film or read every piece of material that comes out. My brother, sister and I definitely weren’t able to, and a part of me is very thankful to my mom for that. In early middle school, I snuck a viewing of David Fincher’s Fight Club, and was far too young to have properly engaged it as a viewer. I didn’t appreciate the film the first time around, spoiling the power of some fairly interesting twists and themes that were important to explore later in life. Even that initial nightmare inducing viewing of Batman Returns had confirmed that Mom, does in fact, know what’s best.

If you are a parent, you, out of everyone in the world, know what’s best for your child. My mom knew what worked and didn’t work for me, and she styled her parenting accordingly. What I am advocating for is allowing others the benefit of experiencing life through a book or film, and to allow fellow parents and teachers the chance to share specific content with their children or students. Literature and film sometimes features themes and sequences that are challenging for all of us to digest, but don’t go demanding theaters or classrooms pull something just because it contains something you disagree with. If your child can’t handle it, or it massively conflicts with who you are as a parent, focus on your family, not everyone else.

Ultimately, my mom wasn’t impressionable and always made decisions based off her own direction as a parent. She never operated off a complete “No, you can’t” basis, and there was always a “when you are older” aspect to her rejection of content. She always saw the worth of teachers and their reading programs scheduled in school, even if the material stemmed from some sort of controversy. What this allowed was a chance to pursue something at a later date, allowing us the ability to fully participate with our interests and schoolwork in a way that positively enriched us.

In 2002, three years after I first saw Batman Returns, there came a day where my siblings and I got the chance to see the film again. This time, with mom’s full blessing, I faced my fears of Danny Devito’s Penguin character without subsequent nightmares. Thanks to my mom’s wisdom of a little separation of time, the movie amazed me, and became one of my all time favorite films. My mom never listened to what others tried to convince her, and she always was grounded in her own style of parenting. She never made other children or parents her priority. Just us, and that’s something I’ll always be grateful for.

About Brandon Pershing

A Greencastle native, Brandon Pershing is completing his journalism degree at IUPUI. An avid film buff, Pershing is also a comic book enthusiast. He and his wife, Lindsey, live in Greencastle.

]]>http://nationalroadmagazine.com/2018/03/05/stop-parenting-everyone-elses-entertainment/feed/0Review: Unicorn Derby’s Explosion of Awesomehttp://nationalroadmagazine.com/2018/03/03/review-unicorn-derbys-explosion-of-awesomness/
http://nationalroadmagazine.com/2018/03/03/review-unicorn-derbys-explosion-of-awesomness/#commentsSat, 03 Mar 2018 15:06:02 +0000http://nationalroadmagazine.com/?p=16593Friday Photo Blog–Saturday Edition by Tim McLaughlin — Where: Square Cat Vinyl / Fountain Square / Indianapolis I could describe Unicorn Derby, but I think they did a really good job per their website: “Once upon a time, in a mystical hipster land called Fountain Square, there was a very magical band contest. It wasn’t ...

Where: Square Cat Vinyl / Fountain Square / Indianapolis

I could describe Unicorn Derby, but I think they did a really good job per their website:

“Once upon a time, in a mystical hipster land called Fountain Square, there was a very magical band contest. It wasn’t like ordinary band contests from ancient times, it was a Random Band contest of the future. There was a bucket, names were entered into said bucket, and random people would be chosen to form merry bands that play music. If they don’t break up in six weeks.”

The 2017 Random Band Challenge winners, Unicorn Derby, headlined a very special evening of music at Square Cat Vinyl. First Friday’s are always hopping in Fountain Square, and this night was full of people to see some of the best musicians this city currently has. Not only was Unicorn Derby (Grant McClinton/ Guitar-Lead Vocals, Joe O’Brien/ Guitar, Caleb Spicer Bass/ Vocals, Kevin Hood/ Drums) on stage, but two other Random Band Challengers.

The night started with the 2016 Random Band Challenge winners the ever-morphing Papa Warfleigh’s Funk Review performing without a bass, but always bringing their signature stage craft to the show. For their last song the band’s drummer, Aaron McDonald, grabbed an acoustic guitar and sang solo a song he performed with Ocho, a group which is also part of the 2017 Random Band Challenge. Second on the bill of three was the band 1923 (Emily Kelm Guitar/Ukelali/ Bass/ Vocals, Will Schaust/Guitar, Ryan Shore/ Drums, Eric Roesch Guitar/ Bass/ Vocals) also a fellow competitor in the 2017 Random Band Challenge. The band had a kind of Saint Aubin vibe as Kelm switched between instruments, sometimes with herself and sometime with Roesch, all the while performing songs that made them one of the bands that put the pressure on Unicorn Derby. So now let’s talk about the band that separated themselves from all of the other bands that night.

Unicorn Derby and their EP Explosion of Awesome.

As the winner of the event’s sophomore edition, this four piece band was able to record at one of the city’s best recording facilities, The Lodge.

The EP consists of four songs (one of which I was able to sit in at The Lodge’s control board) was the first track: “Belong Where You Stay.” With both O’Brien and McClinton on guitars you can imagine the guitar heavy feel this song would have, and you’d be right. This very post-grunge song was a best track to start this EP, with a very anthem feel. You know, the kind of song that makes people put their phones in the pockets. Yeah….. like that. “Between 83 &81” is a very heavy song as it really shows that the rhythm section can sometimes be more front and center that it might otherwise be. Spicer on Bass and Hood on Drums play a bigger role on this track, and like ALL other their songs translate live, if not better, on the EP. With the drums being out front on the song’s outset, it’s that track that most features O’Brien’s guitar work. His riff brings me back to when I first listened to Joy Division’s “She’s Lost Control.” I have asked him on several occasions if he was a fan of Joy Division, which if asked again may end with a punch in my face. The final song on the EP, “Heart Beat” is the love song of the set and is a very well-crafted crescendo to this set of tracks.

Now on to the live performance.

The beauty of the Random Band Challenge is that the majority of those who participate are seasoned musicians so it’s no open mic show. Please note I am a fan of open mic nights, so let’s not go down that rabbit hole. What I mean by this is that it isn’t the singer/ guitar player out front belting out the songs and the bass player and the drummer staring at each other making sure they are playing in time. Their nine-song set included the four songs from their EP and other songs that didn’t make it. The final two songs really brought the full house to its loudest applause with their reggae sounding “Funeral Blues” and closed out the night with their dance track “Just Drunk Enough to Dance.”

I think the coolest thing about this night was the crowd that stayed from the first song of the first band to much later than the last song of the night.

I can’t recommend Unicorn Derby’s Explosion of Awesome enough. Please take the time to download this as an early Christmas gift for yourself at www.unicornderby.com

About Tim McLaughlin

Zionsville resident Tim McLaughin considers himself a documentarian behind the shutter. The owner of Hapless Guitar Photography, he enjoys shooting music and sports related photos, and as he likes to say, “almost anything.”

]]>http://nationalroadmagazine.com/2018/03/03/review-unicorn-derbys-explosion-of-awesomness/feed/0The Game It Used to Behttp://nationalroadmagazine.com/2018/03/02/the-game-it-used-to-be/
http://nationalroadmagazine.com/2018/03/02/the-game-it-used-to-be/#commentsFri, 02 Mar 2018 07:15:35 +0000http://nationalroadmagazine.com/?p=16583The Indiana high school basketball sectionals are underway once more. And once more, as has been the case for two decades, they don’t mean as much as they once did. For reasons I can’t remember, and for reasons which are not that important, I sat in the upper bleachers in Greencastle High School’s McAnally Center ...

]]>The Indiana high school basketball sectionals are underway once more. And once more, as has been the case for two decades, they don’t mean as much as they once did.For reasons I can’t remember, and for reasons which are not that important, I sat in the upper bleachers in Greencastle High School’s McAnally Center and watched the Friday night semi-finals of the 1988 IHSAA sectional. I watched my alma mater (Owen Valley) lose to South Putnam, but I also watched the host Tiger Cubs upset the sectional favorite and defending champions, Rockville, in one of those last-second tip-in thrillers. Despite entering the sectional with a spotty 12-8 record, the Cubs would run deep into the tournament, missing a slot in the final four by a single game. More accurately by a single, final quarter in that game.

There’s no tragedy in that loss. No sorrow in missing that ticket to Market Square Arena. For one thing, they squared off against Bedford North Lawrence, a school some three or four times larger than GHS. For another thing, they lined up against the Stars’ star: one Damon Bailey, a phenom who still holds Indiana’s high school scoring title along with an IHSAA state championship and a college final four. As I said: not a tragedy.

What is tragic is what has happened to the high school game since then. Like the ’88 team, this year’s Tiger Cubs are finishing off their season on a bit of a run: winning 13 of their last 16 games; emphatically winning their last three to boot: first, in the form of a big upset over the conference champion and second, by posting two blowout wins punctuated by white-hot shooting.

I’ll be the first to admit that the objective reality of the past always surrenders to nostalgia. Those of us who finished off our childhood in the ‘80s, for example, cling to the notion that we grew up in a purer, more innocent time. We think fondly of our parachute pants, cassette tapes, and inflatable Reeboks with the longing affection of an elderly lover for the woman he lost decades before.

Sadly, the similarities end there. Unlike the ’88 team, these Cubs are not ending their season close to home. They didn’t get to spend the winter looking forward to a rematch against Cloverdale’s talented 18-win team, nor do they get to square off against the other county teams to their north and south.

Instead, they travel north…to Lebanon I think…or is it Crawfordsville? I could look it up, but that’s sort of the point. For decades no one had to look it up. For decades, everyone knew who was facing whom on McAnally’s hardwood. Sometimes they were bitter foes, hating the kid wearing the purple shirt because he was a “city kid” or disparaging the dude in the red jersey because he was a “country boy.” Other times they were 4-H friends, looking forward to the bragging rights they could bring up every half-hour as they prepped their steers for the judge’s gaze. But when the IHSAA dropped single-class sports for a four-tiered class system, David found himself zoned out of Goliath’s bracket. The two would never meet again.

Those old rivalries still live in a sense. The teams still meet for the annual County Classic as well as in their regular season matchups. But those games lack the power of force which old sectional once held. That was a spectacle on the order and magnatude of a World Series. What passes for it today feels like little more than a horde of middle-aged fat men airballing treys in Tuesday night church league.

That year was the first year high schoolers utilized the three-point line. It was also the 19th year the Tiger Cubs—a storied program with three final fours and some 30 sectional titles hanging from its rafters—had gone without a sectional crown. It was also the perfect time to play the game of basketball.

Look, I’ll be the first to admit that the objective reality of the past always surrenders to nostalgia. Those of us who finished off our childhood in the ‘80s, for example, cling to the notion that we grew up in a purer, more innocent time. We think fondly of our parachute pants, cassette tapes, and inflatable Reeboks with the longing affection of an elderly lover for the woman he lost decades before. What we forget is how screwed up the ‘80s actually were. We forget about Bernie Goetz, Grenada, Morton-Thiokol’s O-rings, Jim and Tammy Faye Baker, crack cocaine, urban rot, and The Men Without Hats. We forget too all those times we heard our own parents longing recollection of the glorious 1950s. It’s a seductive, surreptitious kind of irony. The facts hide under our chins while the dream dances in front our eyes. But it was our seductive past. It’s something we miss in too many ways to count.

Click the image above to read Donovan Wheeler’s 2015 commentary on why ’85 was the greatest year for high school hoops.

So maybe high school basketball was a rougher, uglier game than most of us remember it. Sure, the boys who played back then traversed the court in shorts so small that you can only find them today in the boxer-brief aisle. But those kids—my peers…my friends—screened well when they didn’t have the ball. When they passed off to a teammate, they didn’t rush to the three-point line and bunny-hop, hoping to snag a chance to heave a rainmaker. Back then they cut to the basket, willing to take a forearm to the cheek, eager for the chance to drain a pair of foul shots.

Back then, when the ball rolled across 60-feet of polished hardwood as seven to nine players clobbered each other trying to get it…somebody fouled somebody. The call was made. The crowd usually hated it. The eye-doctor’s charts popped up from under the nylon J.C. Penney’s coats which covered them. Boos cascaded and reverberated off the rafters. But someone made the call. There’s no way the ball rolls that far unless one player knocked the hell out of another. Today, the “jump-ball” is the go-to “I have no clue” call in high school basketball. Three players are planting elbows in each other’s eye sockets? Jump ball. The ball rolls out of the gym and into Grandpa Fred’s ’79 El Camino? Jump ball. The ball flies through the roof, clears the atmosphere, and wipes out HBO’s primary satellite…? Jump ball.

A game once defined by grace, fine-muscle motor control, eye-hand coordination, and deft lateral movement has become a grotesque chess board where ripped body-builders tear through the opponents hanging upon them as they take their seven un-dribbled steps (the ball securely tucked under their armpits) to the basket.

And none of it happens close to home. Today, Greencastle’s de-facto leader sits in my classroom, anticipating his semifinal matchup in the Lebanon (or Crawfordsville?) sectional. Colin is a great kid. He’s a hard worker. He does everything I ask in the classroom. He responds with a distinct “Yes, sir.” I don’t demand it or ask for, but he offers it. We talk about basketball often. We talk about life just as much. I think the world of this kid. And I feel for him, too. Based on the hot streak he’s on (he’s shooting the lights out right now), and the hot streak his team is on…they have a stellar chance at winning that sectional. But I know that Colin would trade all of that to play on his own court, in own town, against his own county rivals. And even though the odds of a kid like Colin staring down a kid like Romeo Langford were never better than rare, thanks to the switch to class basketball, we know for a fact those odds are zero.

About Donovan Wheeler

Wheeler proudly teaches AP Literature and AP Language to some bright and lovably obnoxious kids in a small college town. He also contributes to the craft beer website Indiana on Tap and writes for ISU’s STATE Magazine. He started learning to play guitar last fall, but he remains terrible at it.